Honor and Memory
by wondertross
Summary: Horatio reflects on a friendship


Title: Honor and Memory  
  
Author's Note: I just finished watching Retribution. I felt compelled to write this. I'm borrowing Atypicall's OFC Chase, from two of her HH stories, with her permission.   
  
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Definitely would not have killed Archie.  
  
~*~  
  
From the Journal of Horatio Hornblower:  
  
I write this entry many days hence of the events within. For it is only now that I have right mind to speak of it all. Here within my words is a pitiable ode to a good man, lucky am I to have known him.  
  
A nobler act of sacrifice I have not born witness, as to the actions of one Lieutenant Archibald Kennedy. It is as true a selfless act of friendship as I have ever known. Regretfully, that name will more than likely never grace the pages of history, for he was a young man, just a Lieutenant and not yet distinguished in battle or leadership. His memory will dwindle and he will be forgotten, other than perhaps as a black-hearted footnote, linked to the death of a beloved and esteemed Captain. To my mind this is a great injustice, and never will my pen tear asunder the name of a man that in my esteem had no equal.   
  
Archie was my ally through many years, many battles. He was a compatriot, and a true friend. I dare say he has been one of few, maybe even the only friend I have in my recollection. My men follow me, respect me, but I dare say I shall never speak to any as plainly and freely as I did he. For even in our duty we often failed to stand on ceremony, he was always Archie and I, Horatio.   
  
Archie was a soldier, with unwaivering faith, and a poet's soul. He has taught me to judge a man by the strength of his character and his heart, as well as his arm. He never stopped trying to make me enjoy Shakespeare. He was always the first to make me smile when my heart got too heavy, or my head too full with the burdens of duty. He stood beside me in battle. He saved my life, twice. Once, when my heart led my head astray. The second when imprisoned in America, destined for a sure death on the end of a French noose.* This time makes three, but now at the highest cost to himself. And yet still he questioned his bravery.  
  
I did not lie when I told him he was the bravest man I knew. Few could have survived the early years of his life. His mother died when he was young and his grieving father sent him away to sea. There he was tortured, his mind plagued by dark dreams. For how long he suffered before I came aboard Justininian I still do not know, he never did tell me. But having had just a taste of his horror, I can understand the strength of character it took to survive it. And he rose up to fight his demons. Then he spent years alone in a Spanish prison. And again he survived where lesser men would have surely died. Perhaps he would question his courage, but never would I.  
  
To many he may be forgotten, but to the lucky few that knew him, there will always remain a dear place in their hearts. After Kingston I eventually returned to England. I bore to his family tidings of Archie's death and the true story behind it. My heart nor could my conscious rest if I knew they ever doubted him. Their only account of his death were the official reports from the navy, and to my recollection they read as fiction.   
  
She wept the moment she saw me. Winifred Eudora Chase, the young American woman who had aided Archie in freeing me from prison in Virginia. Chase, as we knew her, would send correspondence now and again, to us both, but Archie's letters were always longer. She loved him I am certain of it, though I don't believe she ever told him. Truthfully I think Archie loved her as well. Regret is a horrible thing. Regret for a life that could have been, regret for a love that was well deserved. I gave her his treasured book of plays, Shakespeare. She held it tightly, bound close to her heart. She will remember him too.  
  
He was the first to notice Sawyer's growing madness. He was the one who spoke out at the injustice of beating Midshipman Wellard. I must wonder that his compassion and kindness were never worn down, despite the many trials of his life.   
  
Archie told me in his last moments that I was quick to give, and slow to accept the smallest gift. He tried to give me that comfort, even on his deathbed. Loyal to the last. This was no small gift he gave me, make no mistake. He saved my life, for a third time, and it cost him his own. And still he gave it freely, even happily. His name besmirched and mine saved any mark. He died as he had lived, with a smile and a great light in his eyes. Buried in a small grave with no ceremony, no hero's worship. Commandant Pellew said the world needs heroes. We need more like him.   
  
So my command is taken with a heavy heart. Even as I stand on deck I feel a hole by my side that shall not be filled. Perhaps the measure of a life is not so easily made in consideration of actions and successes. But the value of a life is most deeply felt in the void of their absence. And may God grant me but one half his heart for the rest of my days. I am a better man to have known him. Archie. We are all better.   
  
Hornblower, 1804  
  
--  
  
End  
  
* Makes reference to Atypicall's stories and characters from, 'On American Soil' and 'Horses and Homicide.' 


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